


Distracting Mako

by Scrunchles



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Asphyxiation, M/M, Whining, dumb nicknames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-19 16:53:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13708650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrunchles/pseuds/Scrunchles
Summary: “Bike first,” Roadhog states.“Then we can have some fun? S’been a while, ain’t much opportunity when you’re all, snort ‘too much sand and sunburn.’ “ Junkrat deepens his voice and tries to growl the best he can in imitation of Roadhog.  “Snort,” he repeats for good measure, once again not even bothering to try for a pig sound and instead just saying it to make it more ridiculous.  He can tell by the way Roadhog’s head is tilted that he has his attention, though.  Or he’s hungry.  Hopefully for Junkrat’s ass.“Tools,” Roadhog says before turning away.





	Distracting Mako

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cancel](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Cancel).



> This is Cancel's reward for January and February! Thanks for your support~

The engine sputters to a halt half a kilometer away from Scum Township.  It’s not out of gas or oil; Roadhog maintains it too closely for that.  It didn’t overheat—Junkrat had rigged up a freon coolant system out of a couple of old refrigerators they had found rotting for fifty years in a dump.  

It just stops.

Roadhog gets off and Junkrat scrambles out of his side car.  He follows behind, watching Roadhog check out every little detail.  He’s not much help.  He’s just in a good position to check out Roadhog’s ass peeking at him from the back of his overalls.

“Shit,” Roadhog grunts, oblivious to Junkrat’s appreciative gaze.

“That don’t sound good,” Junkrat says, tempted to reach out and stick his finger down the crack teasing him.  He nearly does before Roadhog is moving again and he scrambles to put his hands behind his back and act innocent.  Roadhog lumbers around to look at the engine from the other side and Junkrat leans on the bike instead.  He’s less likely to get in trouble here.

“S’not,” Roadhog says, kneeling to touch bits and bobs that Junkrat can’t name but he knows what they’re for.  None of them are likely to be the culprit.  Roadhog finally stand again with a grunt and dusts off his hands.  “Stop leaning and push,” Roadhog growls, elbowing Junkrat off where he is leaning on the bike.

Or maybe he’ll get in trouble just anywhere.  That’s fine too.

Junkrat pouts and moves to help push, but he gets distracted before he can be an actual help.  His hands find their way to Roadhog’s love handles, and he laughs as he pushes just as he was told.

Roadhog brings his arm back and shoves Junkrat away.  “The bike, you idiot.”

Junkrat titters and puts his hands on the back of the bike.  “Sure, sure… knew that,” he says cheekily.

Roadhog grunts and keeps the bike moving straight ahead.  He’s in one of his no-nonsense moods.  He always gets like this when his bike’s involved, so Junkrat just enjoys the view and wonders if Roadhog’s going to be too tense to have a little fun later.  

After a few minutes of watching sweat slide down Roadhog’s back, Junkrat figures he won’t know until he tries.  If he’s going to get in trouble no matter what, he might as well have a chance for fun while he does it.

They finally make it to the small junker settlement with a lot of pushing and reluctant water breaks.  Roadhog gets the bike backed into an empty garage and the door down before anyone looks at Junkrat too closely.  He probably paid someone off, but Junkrat isn’t paying attention to anything but the way Roadhog’s pants are riding low on his ass.

Once the door is down and the bike is up on blocks, Junkrat’s hands touch Roadhog’s stomach before they’re swatted away.  Junkrat pouts.

“Bike first,” Roadhog states.

“ _Then_ we can have some fun? S’been a while, ain’t much opportunity when you’re all, _snort_ ‘too much sand and sunburn.’ “ Junkrat deepened his voice and tried to growl the best he could in imitation of Roadhog.  “ _Snort_ ,” he repeats for good measure, once again not even bothering to try for a pig sound and instead just saying it to make it more ridiculous.  He can tell by the way Roadhog’s head is tilted that he has his attention, though.  Or he’s hungry.  Hopefully for Junkrat’s ass.

“Tools,” Roadhog says before turning away.

Junkrat sighs and digs around in his side car for their tool box.  He nearly breaks his back hauling it out and carefully waddles it around to where Roadhog is sitting with his legs spread, brushing dirt off of the hog’s engine.

Junkrat crouches beside Roadhog to watch and help for all of two seconds before he leans on Roadhog’s shoulder, watching him carefully strip the engine down and clean the dust and grit from everything.

“Might have been the dust storm,” Junkrat says.

Roadhog grunts and continues working.

Junkrat watches for a few more seconds before sighing and smacking his lips, making little popping noises to fill the silence.  

He tastes oil and dust when Roadhog smacks his hand over Junkrat’s mouth.  “Fuck off,” Roadhog says.  Junkrat pokes his tongue at the crack between Roadhog’s fingers and waggles his brows until Roadhog shifts his hand to cover his entire face and shoves him away.

“Fuck off over there,” Roadhog says, clipped and sharp even through his mask.

Junkrat pouts and stays bowled over on the floor for a bit—maybe it’s half a bit, he doesn’t keep track—then he rolls over and scrabbles around until he’s staring up at Roadhog.  He places his hands beneath his chin and his brain races with attention-grabbing ideas.  He stays silent for all of ten seconds before:

“Hog.”

“Hoggy.”

“Hogginald.”

“Lovie.”

“Wuvie wumpkin.”

… fuck what was his name again?  It was something with an...

“Mako!”

Roadhog still doesn’t turn around.

Junkrat pouts and clacks his boot and peg leg together to a jaunty rhythm in his head.  “Was that the wrong name?” He asks, feeling his stomach descending through the dusty floor of the garage.

Roadhog doesn’t reply.

Fuck that was probably the wrong name.  

A low whine builds in Junkrat’s chest until Roadhog throws a wrench at him.  “That’s the right name, now _shut. Up_ ,” he growls.

Junkrat sighs in relief and then wiggles closer to Roadhog.  “If I shut up will you—“

“If you shut up I won’t leave you here when I fix the bike,” Roadhog snaps.

Junkrat stares at the side of Roadhog’s mask for a while, then huffs and folds his arms to rest his cheek on.  He doesn’t pout for long, considering how long he _can_ pout for.  An hour later, he’s sitting next to Roadhog again, leaning against his side and watching him put the hog back together with the utmost care.  “Yer so patient,” Junkrat says after watching him gently wiggle a doohickey back in place before bolting it in.  Roadhog’s told him the name before, but he can barely remember _Roadhog’s_ real name and he’s _important_.  Fuck, what was it again?

Something with an A.

“Hmmm… Ay… Ayko…?” Junkrat mumbles to himself.  That didn’t sound entirely right—

“ _What_?” Roadhog asks, sounding just as irritated as before.  

“What? Uh… nothing, just trying to remember y’name again.  S’hard… like on the top of my tongue and then it sounds weird once it’s out and I’m not—“

Roadhog covers Junkrat’s mouth again but this time Junkrat doesn’t tease him with his tongue, his eyes just look worried.  Roadhog sighs and looks at the bike before dragging Junkrat into his lap and pushing his hand up from Junkrat’s mouth over his face and through his patchy hair.

“You’ll remember it,” Roadhog says, resting his hand at the nape of Junkrat’s neck and petting the sun scorched skin with his thumb.  He pushes his mask up above his mouth and nose with the other hand.

Junkrat nearly melts against him and rests his chin on Roadhog’s chest.  “Yeah?”

Roadhog grunts and shifts out of the carefully arranged piles of parts he’s built up around his legs.  “You remember it right now?” he asks, once he feels like they’re a safe distance from his work over the last few hours.

“Uh…” Junkrat chews on the inside of his cheek and tries to remember the not-quite-right name he had said earlier.  “Something… uh…” Junkrat shrugs as the pressure shoves the name right out of his head.  “Fuck, I’ll just fuck off—“

Roadhog grabs Junkrat’s hips when he tries to slip away and he presses his lips to Junkrat’s neck.  “I’ve been,” kiss, “trying to get you,” kiss, “to fuck off,” kiss, “for _hours_.”

Junkrat laughs and shifts in Roadhog’s lap, but he’s not trying to escape anymore.  He scoots closer and rocks his hips against Roadhog’s protective grill.  “You know me,” he says. “Not gonna do anything when you want me to.”

“Yeah? Take your pants off,” Roadhog says.

Junkrat laughs, high and loud.  It echoes slightly in the empty garage.  Roadhog presses his lips to Junkrat’s just to get him to shut up.  

“If we get caught,” he says when he pulls back.  “I’m going to hand you over.”

Junkrat laughs, softer than before but it’s still too loud.  Roadhog runs his hands up and down Junkrat’s back.  “You always say that,” Junkrat points out.

“This time I mean it,” Roadhog says, but Junkrat knows he doesn’t.

“ ‘course you do.”  Junkrat unbuckles his harness and shrugs it off, then undoes his belt.

Roadhog chuckles softly and kisses Junkrat’s shoulder now that there isn’t a harness in the way.  Junkrat echoes his laughter, higher and more annoying, as he keeps undoing his pants, but it only makes Roadhog’s kisses linger longer, become warmer.  He can’t get his pants off without dismounting Roadhog’s lap, so he just stays where he is, letting Roadhog kiss up and down his shoulder and occasionally shifting against Roadhog’s grill for a bit of blessed friction against his cock slowly shifting its way out of his open trousers.

Roadhog pushes Junkrat away after a while.  He whines and clings until Roadhog puts a fair bit of force behind his shove and the air is knocked out of him.  Junkrat lays on the dusty ground, dazed and splayed out with a stupid grin on his face as he slowly regains his breath.  Roadhog removes Junkrat’s boot and pants while he’s incapacitated. “Love…” he takes a few shallow breaths.  “Love it when you’re...” he pauses to suck in a deep breath, “rough,” he finally gets out with a dumb grin.

Roadhog snorts and unbuckles his grill and belt before shoving the front of his pants down.  He pulls lube from his pocket, but Junkrat wraps his legs around Roadhog’s thighs and drags himself right up against him.  Roadhog’s heavy cock slides against Junkrat’s and he jerks his hips up from the floor.  

“Don’t waste the time, mate.  Just rub off on me,” Junkrat says, rolling his hips with another whine.  His chest still wheezes a little and he rubs the center of his chest thoughtfully.  “Maybe put your weight on me too if you’re up for it…”

Roadhog snorts and squeezes lube on his hand, just enough to rub between their cocks to make it less sweat-sticky before leaning over Junkrat and pressing one palm against his chest.  

Junkrat wheezes out a laugh, then starts shifting his hips against Roadhog’s slick cock with needy little grunts.  Roadhog slowly bears his weight down on Junkrat’s chest, watching his breaths get shallower and longer as he struggles to keep up his movements with less and less breath.

Roadhog waits until Junkrat’s face is closer to the ruddy color of his thick cock head than the tan of a sun-baked junker before he lets up.

Junkrat sucks in a breath and convulses with it, humping up against Roadhog with renewed vigor as he takes deep, desperate gasps.  A strangled cry leaves him when he comes, and he jerks his hips a few more times before he flops back on the dusty ground, panting and shaking.  His eyes are nearly black with how dilated his pupils are, and he stares blankly up at the ceiling as Roadhog slicks his hand and begins jerking himself off with his right hand.  He keeps his left hand on Junkrat’s chest, feeling his desperate breaths and his racing heart.  Roadhog groans when he comes, and he directs it deliberately across Junkrat’s stomach and chest, finally pulling his hand away so that all of his release ends up on Junkrat.  Once he’s done, he shakes the last few drops off on Junkrat’s flexing stomach and then he drags his pants back up and turns to resume working on putting the bike back together.

“You’re the best, Mako.” Junkrat chirps, once he’s regained enough of his composure to speak.

“Shut up,” Roadhog says, but it doesn't have any bite.  Junkrat reaches his foot up to poke Roadhog’s back.  When Roadhog twists around and grabs the appendage, Junkrat lets out a giggle and wiggles his toes at him.  Roadhog gives Junkrat’s foot a gentle squeeze before dropping it and allowing him to slap his sole against his back while he works on the bike.  


End file.
